Mixed Drinks About Feelings
by KaydenceRei
Summary: Bruce wasn't quite sure what to make of the situation he found himself in, but one thing was for sure; a drunk assassin was far more terrifying than a Chitauri invasion.


I needed something fun after End Game. Don't worry, no spoilers.

**Mixed Drinks About Feelings**:

To be frank, Bruce hadn't thought Natasha was drunk when he first came across her in the lounge. When he had entered, she had simply been sitting on one of the couches with her legs curled up beneath her, swirling clear liquid around in a glass.

No, she certainly didn't seem drunk. Clad in a pair of black shorts and one oversized t-shirt that hung off one shoulder, the redheaded assassin simply appeared deep in thought.

In retrospect, that probably should have been Bruce's first indication that she wasn't entirely sober. Natasha never got lost in thought. The woman was almost irritatingly composed at all times. He was sure that every response she gave—whether it be a laugh, a smile, a frown—all of it Bruce was certain she did for calculated reasons and never as a genuine response.

Not that he knew her as well as he would have liked. He supposed that was partially his own fault as well as hers. Neither of them were exactly sociable. Despite that fact, he found her absolutely fascinating. Any man with half a brain would.

Maybe a man with the other half of the brain currently working would have realized they should have run away.

"Can I ask you something, Doc?"

Her voice interrupted his thought process and instantly she had him in her web. The scary thing was that she wasn't really trying, he knew that. It just...happened. She drew him to her effortlessly like a moth to the flame.

So Bruce took a seat on the couch opposite of her and answered, "Sure."

"Have you ever felt something—but you weren't entirely sure what it was that you were feeling?" she asked him. There was no hint of teasing, though also no hint of confusion.

"That's...vague," Bruce informed her with a raised eyebrow, "what's the feeling about? Something? Someone?"

The redhead parted her lips to respond, thought better of it, then smacked them closed. All the while she continued to swirl that liquid around in her cup, green eyes watching it spin around, and around, and around.

Finally she answered the question, "Someone."

"I think we all have that at some point," Bruce assured her.

"So how do you sort it out?" Natasha questioned him.

Bruce couldn't deny curiosity got the better of him in that moment. "Um, I suppose that would depend on the person...and the feeling. What do you think this—feeling—is?"

Natasha appeared to be mulling it over as she stopped swirling the drink and took a sip instead. "Well to be completely honest, I either care about this person or I want to throw them down on the bed and screw them out of my system. I'm just not entirely sure which way that feeling is actually leaning."

He felt the heat rush to his face in a near instant. Given the way Natasha glanced slyly over at him beneath her eyelashes, she knew she'd made him uncomfortable. Apparently she thought it was amusing.

"That uh..." Bruce paused as he cleared his throat before he shook his head, "that's two _very_ different things."

Natasha inclined her head in agreement. "The way I see it, if the feeling is there after a good romp, then it's a caring thing."

He guffawed a little. _That _was her method of differentiating? "Uh...he may not see it that way, whoever he is..." he informed her carefully, then he felt the need to correct himself, "...or she."

"That's what people do, right?" she asked him, ignoring his attempt to not make assumptions, and apparently she was completely serious.

Bruce narrowed his eyes slightly, but he supposed she wasn't entirely wrong. "I guess some do," he admitted.

"So what would you suggest?"

_That_ was a damned good question.

Now that she was mentioning confused feelings, he'd had some of his own regarding her. He liked Natasha, of course he did. But the question was on what level had those feelings gone to?

Even her quirks had quirks, and he found them both mildly annoying and amusing all at once.

Apparently he'd been quiet for just a little too long because when he shifted his gaze to where she had been, she was no longer there.

The woman was a ninja.

He shifted around and found her pouring something else into the clear liquid in her cup, turning it darker.

She merely shrugged at him and smiled when she caught his gaze on her. "What can I say? I'm having mixed drinks about feelings," she told him.

Bruce chuckled in an instant. "I think that's supposed to be drinks about mixed feelings," he suggested.

When she turned back to the couch was when he noticed that though her footsteps were as eerily silent as they had always been, she wasn't entirely walking _straight_. Natasha Romanoff was drunk. "Oh I assure you, I'm doing it the other way around," she informed him with a smirk.

Bruce laughed, a true and genuine laugh for one of the first times in a long time. Her odd humor was one of those quirks he enjoyed. She wasn't funny in the way most people were. Her jokes were typically more sardonic and dry, occasionally a little dark; and usually based on something that reminded her of whatever was transpiring in that moment.

He heard from Steve once that in the Jersey bunker she had quoted the movie 'Saw' as she fiddled with an old computer. Bruce had found it pretty damn funny. Apparently Steve had found it mildly amusing, but not nearly as much in the moment that she had done it. Although in Steve's defense, Natasha had a tendency to let her humor out at rather inappropriate times.

Bruce couldn't deny noticing that if Natasha considered someone a friend, her humorous and teasing side came out more often.

He hadn't even realized she had made _two_ drinks until she held one out to him.

"Oh, uh..." Bruce fumbled for the wording, "I'm not really much of a drinker."

Natasha merely shrugged. "Humor me," she told him with a sideways little smile, "you can just hold it and make me feel like I'm not drinking alone."

Bruce shook his head slightly but he couldn't exactly fight the smile at her comment as he took the drink from her hands. "I suppose I could do that," he told her.

While in her friendship with Steve, Natasha's teasing leaned more towards setting the man up on dates—Bruce had noticed with himself that her teasing leaned more on making him _extremely_ uncomfortable. He had once heard her tell Tony it was sort of funny to see him turn different shades of red instead of green.

Much to Bruce's dismay, Tony had snorted out a laugh in response at the time.

"You never answered my question," Natasha told him, slipping quietly back onto the couch in the exact same position she had been in before.

Bruce raised both of his eyebrows up slightly at her. Admittedly he'd been distracted just a moment when she had turned around and he'd been graced with a rather up close view of how short those shorts actually were. He knew he was red in the face once more because Natasha was smirking again.

"Uh...what was the question?" he asked her, trying to refocus.

"Well you said banging it out isn't everyone's suggested method of deciphering feelings from—uh—flings I guess. So what would you suggest?" she questioned, sipping at her drink again.

This time Bruce actually sipped his drink, mostly because he was as uncomfortable as humanly, and inhumanly, possible now. "I um," he paused, because really, he wondered how he might decipher those same thoughts when it came to Natasha herself. Though if what she was going through now was any indication, he was questioning this far too late. "Maybe...spend more time with that person. Figure more out about them," he suggested, "the more you do with them the more you figure out about your own feelings."

Natasha looked like she was thinking about it. "So...what? Like dating?" she asked him after a beat.

Now that Bruce mulled it over, he supposed that was _exactly_ what he had suggested. "Well...yeah," he stated with a shrug.

Natasha sipped her drink again and shook her head. "That seems like a lot of work if it turns out I don't actually have those feelings," she told him, "I feel like sex would just be faster."

Bruce knew he was red again, which he supposed was exactly the reason _why_ she said it.

"I mean, I guess it's more viable," she finally told him as she rested back against the couch, "I'm not really sure sex is on the table anyways."

He quirked an eyebrow up at her comment before he responded, "Why? The person not around?"

Natasha didn't answer the question. "Alright expert," she stated, leaning forward again, she rested her elbow on her knee and her chin on her hand, "what kind of date?" She glanced at her drink and held it out, "Cocktails?"

Bruce chuckled as he shook his head, "I guess you could do that." He shrugged after when he thought better of it, "But it could leave the impression of just the...uh..."

"Sex?" Natasha finished for him with a chuckle.

"Yes..." Bruce answered with a sigh.

The redhead rolled her eyes, lifting her chin from her free hand and sipping her drink again. "So what? Breakfast?" she asked sarcastically.

Bruce grinned, "I'll have you know, breakfast is great for any meal of the day. But I think that's leading more into a relationship side."

Natasha blew out a frustrated breath, "So drinks is sex and breakfast is relationship."

"Pretty much."

She waved her hand in dismissal, "This is too much work."

Bruce laughed again at her dismay. "If it's real it'll be worth it," he assured her.

Now Natasha gave the smallest of sighs. "Was it worth it for you?" she questioned. It was the only real personal question she had ever decided to ask him in all the months they had known each other.

"Every second," Bruce assured her.

She looked as though she were actually thinking about all that he had said and Bruce shook his head with a smile before he sipped the drink again. Whatever she had made him was some sort of fruity concoction—and it wasn't half bad. She must have been a bartender in a previous life.

He couldn't resisted asking, "What exactly am I drinking?"

She smirked.

Bruce had a feeling he was going to regret asking.

"Sex on the beach."

The woman was determined to kill him, that was the conclusion that Bruce had come to.

So he said the only thing he could think of, which even Bruce had to admit was just a little pathetic, "You forgot the little umbrella straw."

Natasha gave the smallest but most honest little laugh before she responded to him, "I'll try to remember that for the next time."

"Well you might be a little busy in a new relationship to remember I like umbrella straws," Bruce pointed out with a half smile.

It hit him in that moment that he wouldn't be looking forward to that—which in turn made him feel just a little bit terrible. He should be glad for her wanting something normal like a relationship.

Natasha merely rolled her eyes. "Please, Doc," she told him offhandedly, "you have interesting taste in just about everything. I wouldn't forget."

Now he was interested. "Interesting taste?" he asked out of curiosity.

"Music is more in the Tchaikovsky range," she stated, something of which he couldn't deny. "Movies lean towards black and white," she tacked on next. Yet another thing he couldn't deny. "You like your food on the spicier side," she added.

Bruce stared at her with both eyebrows raised slightly. He was impressed.

"With Tony you act like you're annoyed with him, but really you appreciate his idiocy because he doesn't treat you differently than anyone else."

He found himself blinking several times now. She was right again.

"You don't sleep much," Natasha mentioned after a beat, "everyone else assumes it's just a quirk—I'm pretty sure it's because the Big Guy's thoughts run rampant in your head."

Bruce had never realized just how much attention the assassin paid to him.

Natasha just smiled, "And you're not fond of attention so I don't mention the things I notice. Like that you're happier when Tony is electrocuting you for a response than if he's not around at all."

He chuckled a little, "You're right." He sipped the drink and leaned back on the couch as well. Now he was just a little ashamed of his previous thoughts that he wasn't entirely looking forward to her finding someone for herself.

"You also snore."

How the hell did she know that?

Natasha chuckled once more. "I've caught you snoozing at your desk in the lab before," she informed him nonchalantly.

That explained who put the blanket over him twice. He had always assumed it was Pepper.

"You drink tea, not coffee," Natasha told him next, "no sugar, just one drop of milk. Honestly you're going to have to explain that to me. There's no way that single drop changes the taste, so is it a color thing?"

Bruce laughed pretty hard at her question. "I wish I knew," he told her, "it's just what I've always done."

Then she put the nail in the coffin, "And you like sex on the beach."

He choked on the final sip he was taking of the aforementioned cocktail.

She quirked her head to the side with a sideways little smile, "You can decide if I mean the drink or the act." Natasha stood up, taking his empty glass from him and heading over towards the bar. She placed both cups on the opposite side before she headed towards the door of the lounge.

For just a moment he thought she was simply going to leave without a word.

Instead the redhead turned and smiled at him, "We should have tea some time." Then she quirked an eyebrow up at him teasingly, "Maybe do breakfast for dinner."

"Sure," Bruce answered without a second thought.

She just nodded a little. She was completely out of sight for a few seconds before she poked her head back into the lounge. "Unless of course you were more interested in another drink," she told him.

Bruce felt his brow ruffle slightly in confusion as she disappeared again.

"I believe that was Miss Romanoff's way of asking if you wanted to go on a date or 'bang it out'," Jarvis' voice came out of nowhere.

Bruce was so glad she was gone now because he was certain he had never turned so red before in his entire life.

* * *

**I for one love to have mixed drinks about feelings.  
**


End file.
